


A discussion on martyrdom

by Ejunkiet



Series: Dragon Age Anthologies [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: A flare for dramatics, F/M, Gen, Requited Love, dicussions on the future from a DA2 perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejunkiet/pseuds/Ejunkiet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was really quite remarkable just how little it took to break a city.</p><p>  <i>“Hawke, it’s Anders. He’s asked for you.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cataclysm

### a discussion on martrydom

Lightning lanced across her gauntlets, pulsing with barely restrained energy before it was released,  arcing from her outstretched hands into the lyrium imbued templar armor of her target. He released a short cry, his body trembling under the force until she released the connection, sending him crashing into the earth in a molten mass of charred flesh and steel. Her arms ached, her strength faltering, but their path was clear, the last foot soldier at her feet, and the passage to the circle was open. She could only pray to the Maker that they weren’t too late.  
  
Not that the Maker listened. You only had to glance at the cowering statues weeping into their chains to know that man had been abandoned by his father long before any templar had set foot in this prison.  
  
She was panting, her breaths coming hard and fast as her heart rate scaled normal limits. Her feet were unsteady beneath her, sending her stumbling sideways, and she grasped at the air to the side until her fingers came into contact with a wall, and her body collapsed against it.  
  
There was a step behind her, and she whirled, fingers clenched in their grip on her staff as her other hand scrambled for the lyrium bottle at her hip, before another’s hand closed over her wrist, staying her movements. She was faced with a pair of familiar chestnut eyes framed with bands of auburn hair, her gaze darker and more conflicted than any other time Hawke could remember in the seven years she’d known her.  
  
“Hawke. It’s Anders.”

——-

Her friend’s dark eyes glanced back to the courtyard, her expression screwing up with a brief emotion that was gone when their gazes met again, masked carefully behind the neutral facade of the guard.

“He asked for you.”

Across the courtyard, she could make out the hunched form of his silhouette,  crouched on top of a crate.

“You can do what you want with me, love.”

_Love_. The word slipped from his lips the same way it had when it had been just them together, nothing between them but the warmth of their combined body heat and the sheets that hid them from the outside. Her eyes bore holes into the tattered feather pauldrons of his coat, uncaring of the fact his shoulders faced her and he could not see her expression. His use of the word, softly spoken, almost seemed like a joke. This - it all almost seemed like an elaborate joke, as her feet moved without her conscious thought, a bloody anger fueling her movements as the bladed end of her staff hovered over his hunched back, quivering with the slow exhale of his breath. But it was too cruel, and too fresh a wound. Her blade hovered, and he didn’t move.

“I did… what had to be done. What was inevitable, what was needed. At least now we have the chance to _fight_.” His voice rose as he spoke, before breaking on the last word, and taking another breath, he stopped. After a  long moment of silence, she realised he was waiting.

Her mouth was dry. The hand not on her weapon found the lyrium at her belt, and unstopping it with her teeth, she downed it.

 ———

 “Did you think of what would happen to them? The ones that will become your martyrs? The mages in the circle - they could have been me, could have been you, could have been Bethany-“

Her voice broke off only a short while after she had managed to find it, and her staff trembled in her grip. She was still holding the empty vial, and her fingers gripped it as if it were an anchor.

“They are the ones that will suffer from this. None of them will be free, not while the templars march Thedas. And, because of this, they will have no shortage of recruits.” Her voice rose in volume, growing into a ringing accusation as her fingers clenched around her weapon,  painting her knuckles white. “This _was not_ justice.”

_And you were the one who reminded me that there was such a thing._

Her eyes burned, in such a way she hadn’t felt since the last of her family had died - and trembling, she forced herself a step back, and then another. When her foot caught on something soft and heavy, halting her progress, she turned; flinging the little glass bottle within her fingers into the marble stairs of the destroyed chantry. She watched the glass shatter against the steps, spraying outwards in a shower of glittering shards.

Her staff resettled across her shoulders, and she made to move towards the road. This could wait. This _would_ wait, when there were other lives that needed her more.

“Wait.” His voice was soft, a whisper on the steadily cooling air as the sun set over the city. “You’re… not going to kill me.”

She paused on the edge of the courtyard, her eyes on the road before her. The thought of not bothering with a reply tempted her; but again, there were lives more important that depended on her to be better than petty victories, and her breath drew out in a curse.

"No, Anders, I'm not."

Her eyes lifted from the stained cobbles, finally, the anger within them stark as she met his gaze across the darkening courtyard. He had half-risen, half-twisted in his seat, an expression of bewildered hope softening his features, and the conflicting mess of her emotions arose again, threatening to swell over her. Another breath, and they were shoved to the side with what was left of her former lives, buried with the remains of her family, cutting off the excess until only one thing remained: what had to be done.

His eyes never left hers, as she turned to face him fully, as patient as he ever was. As if nothing had changed - and it was remarkable just how little had, and just what little was necessary to send this city to its knees.

"What will you do?"

"I would fight. With you. If you'd let me."

"Then we don't have much time."


	2. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet; a stream of consciousness around in-game dialogue.

### Distractions

“Justice does not approve of my obsession with you. ”

His pulse was a thundering beat beneath his skin, a roaring within his mind that drummed out the presence he had come to associate with Justice, until he could almost pretend that he was in sole possession of his mind and thoughts. The room was warm, the thick smell of wax and smoke tickling his nostrils with the comforting scent of a home well-tended, clean, and definitely not dark town. Her eyes glittered in the light of the single candle, watching, waiting. He inhaled once more, just - to help him memorise the scene, this moment, where he had stepped up to her shuttered door, and found it open.

“This is a point we disagree on.” His lips twisted at the memories of the disdain and reproach that had haunted his thoughts, the battle that he had fought, and lost with himself. Three years of silence fell over them, unspoken thoughts thick in the air between them, and it was nearly too easy to face the fire instead, as if not facing it would dull the pain, the sense of loss, the moment she’d recognise him, the abomination, and turn him away. Her eyes were steady, watching, _waiting_ , and when it was evident no such declarations were forthcoming, the words tripped over his tongue in a rush, unable to be restrained any longer.

“In- in the circle, love was only a game. It gave the Templars too much power it you had something you couldn’t stand to lose. It would _kill_ me to lose you. I have never met a mage who - dared - to love."

He reaches out to her, a light touch against her cheek, and still she didn't turn away. This is no longer the time for hesitation - and somehow, Justice _agrees_. He agrees, and Anders could just-

He cups her face within his hands, thumbs at her cheeks and wonders just how he managed to last this long. Maker, he can hold back no longer.

"This is the rule I will most cherish breaking.”


	3. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle, Hawke left with Anders. That doesn't mean she was happy about it. Continuation of the first chapter. _"That leaves four of us."_

### Choices

It was after the first battle, when the doors of the gallows had been barred and warded against the second wave -or at least, as much as they could be - that she had approached Anders, again. He was distracted, his eyes scanning the perimeter walls as his hands wrung together in sharp, painful twisting motions that sent the blackened feathers of his pauldrons quivering.

His hands stilled when he caught sight of her, a pause in the frantic energy that possessed him, and his lips twitched into a small smile. His gaze was steady, almost hopeful. “Love.”

She was silent, and his expression changed minutely, a flicker of sadness, a painful twist to his lips. He had expected this, of course. The decision to incite a rebellion, a successful rebellion, was not made impulsively. It was the result of careful planning, long months, maybe even years of it. It didn’t take much to arrive at the conclusion that he had predicted her place here, too. Against her idiotic brother, and broken friend, laid out bleeding in the courtyard, tan skin and lyrium markings charred from the combined forces of magic and steel.

Another step brought her to a stop just in front of him, leaving two paces of space, enough for her to breathe without inhaling the stink of soot on his coat.

“Fenris fell.”

His expression twisted into something like pain. “I know. I struck him when his hand reached for your chest.”

“And I finished him when he hit the floor.” Her throat closed, and she coughed to clear it, blinking back the burn behind her eyes. The image of his fury, his pain, cut deep, deeper than she would have imagined, even with their history of antagonism and their string of furious debates. Over the years they had formed a mutual respect even if he abhorred her magic, and she hadn’t anticipated his attempt on her life.

Anders had. He had planned for everything, it seemed.

“That leaves four of us.”

“More than enough.” He hesitated, gaze wavering once on the door, as the sound of clattering metal rose above the murmur of conversation within the room. His voice lowered to barely more than a whisper. “More than I had hoped.”

His gaze broke away from the door, fixing on hers. His hand twitched at his side, before clenching into a fist.

“The chantry will not let me escape, not from this. They will hunt me, and anyone who joins me. You have a choice, Hawke.”

A laugh spluttered between her lips. “A choice? Really?” Her voice rose, her composure breaking until she was spitting the words across the space between them. “You give me a choice, now?”

There was silence in the room, as a resounding crash shuddered against the door, and Anders was at her side, magic flaring between his fingers. She set her stance, shifting her staff in her grip as her energy through her fingers, bright sparks within the wards she had set into the wood.

Another thud against the door. The first enchanter was muttering behind her, the first syllables of a spell she did not know, and requests to the Maker for forgiveness. Anders’ voice was a murmur she almost missed, as her friends joined her flank, the air singing with the ring of drawn metal. “I warned you I would break your heart.”

Her response was a hiss through gritted teeth, spat across the short distance between them. _“That’s not good enough, Anders.”_

The doors ahead of them flew open, just an unearthly shriek released behind them, rending the air in two.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my first play through of DA2, I started playing with the initial plan to rival!mance Fenris. I fell in love with Anders along the way, and ended up having to face down Fenris during the final battle. As Isabella had already left earlier in the game (Hawke's demands for her to hand over the Qu'un were not appreciated), that left my Hawke with four companions during the final battle. Carver eventually joined them, once Meredith flipped her wig, and after the battle, Hawke left with Anders.
> 
> That doesn't mean she was happy about it.


	4. foreshadowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't even call this a chapter; this was a drabble that was forgotten on my blog. This story will get some more action _soon_.

### a foreshadowing

He’d made his mind up ten times; to go, to not go; to leave the city entirely. But after all of the hours of deliberation, he found himself here, paralyzed on the doorstep, his fingers hovering over the handle. He grasped for the conviction to move forward and test the lock. If it was locked, he would have his answer; that he was alone in his desires. His actions earlier would have been rash, and unwanted, hoping for too much from a casual arrangement.

If the door was unlocked… He almost couldn’t bear to hope for that possibility, a conclusion to three long years of passionate - restraint.

His fingers wrapped around the handle, and it twisted. His breath was caught between his teeth, as Anders slipped through the front door and made his way into the entrance hall.

There was no turning back now.


End file.
